Page 30 of On the Edge

“Thank you, sir. It is easy to play with Max, he makes us all better.”

“Lawson speaks highly of you. Both of you,” Corwin tells me. Again, I feel as though my heart has expanded to twice its normal size. My face burns with embarrassment.

“Thank you,” is all I can think to say.

Sam and I continue through the halls, and I struggle to keep a smile off my face and my expression neutral. Not only did Corwin Sanhover remember me from training camp my freshman year, but he said he’s been watching our games this season. He said I’ve had an incredible couple of seasons, as though I am a player worth paying attention to. My fingers itch to text Max.

“So, that’s all the time we have unless you can think of any further questions?” Sam stops, turning to me. We are near the rink, so I watch the Zamboni make its rounds for a few moments before answering.

“Not yet, but I may think of some later.”

We head back toward his office to grab my things, where Troy Nichols is indeed waiting. When he sees me, his face breaks out into a wide smile that has dimples poking to life in his cheeks. I’m not usually one to judge the way others look, but I think I like dimples. They are rather cute. I wonder what Atlas would look like with dimples.

“Vas, right?” Troy asks, holding out his hand. I have shaken the hands of two NHL stars today—incredible. “I came to help out at camp a couple years ago, remember? With Corwin?”

I stare at him, momentarily struck dumb by the realization that he is under the impression that I would ever forget that day.

“I remember. It was the best day of the summer for all of us.”

Troy beams. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the meeting. I can wait in the hall.”

He takes a couple steps toward the door before Sam holds a hand out to stop him. “We were just finishing up. Give me a minute to pack up and we can walk out together.”

“How’s your season going?” Troy asks me eagerly. Bending to pick up my folder, I grasp it tightly between both my hands.

“Very well, thank you for asking. I will be missing Max when he is not with me next year.” Realizing that this sounds like a complaint about the rest of my team, I rush to continue, “But we have many promising forwards. Many younger players that will do well.”

Troy chats with me as Sam packs up his things, and together we leave the building. I am unsure of the etiquette here, as this feels particularly informal. I don’t know whether I made the best impression, and already I am feeling nervous at the thought of letting Coach Mackenzie down.

“Thank you, sir, for meeting with me. I appreciate the time you have taken out of your schedule to do so,” I tell Sam the moment he turns to me after we reach the outside of the building. He smiles.

“You’ll hear from us in a couple of weeks, okay? Still a few interviews to conduct and then we’ll be contacting all the applicants to let them know.”

“I understand. Thank you,” I repeat.

“I’m going to ask Nico if I can come back to practice one day,” Troy announces. “So, hopefully we will be seeing each other again soon.”

“Micky would be very happy to meet you,” I tell him, thinking of our goalie’s “lucky” Troy Nichols jersey. “You are his favorite.”

When I get to my car, I sit in silence for a few moments. I always get a little nervous in situations like this, and coming down from them always makes me feel vaguely ill. From my car, I can see Troy and Sam crossing the parking lot together at a casual stroll, hands linked. The now familiar pang of jealousy burns in my stomach. Ireallywant to know what that feels like.

When I get back to my dorm, I change out of my clothes and take a quick five-minute shower. Sitting down at my desk to get some work done, I set a timer on my phone for forty-five minutes. My mother told me that after forty-five minutes, I should be taking a break or moving on to a different subject matter; that after a certain amount of time studying the same thing, I will no longer be retaining it.

Unfortunately, when the timer goes off, I don’t feel like I’ve retained much of anything at all. This English course is higher level and more intricate than my previous classes of the same subject. The reading assignments alone take me twice as long than they are probably taking other students, which makes me feel panicky. I am terrified of failing a course and letting my parents down.

Before I can switch my books and reset the timer, I notice there is a text message from Atlas.

Atlas

how was the interview

I smile at my phone, a strange buzzy feeling in my chest when I look at his name on the screen, like I’ve swallowed a bee.

Henri

Hello, Atlas, thank you for asking. The interview went well, I believe. I will not know for a few weeks.

I wait, but there is no indication that a reply is coming. It doesn’t matter. The fact that he even remembered makes me feel good. For the first time all semester, I’m excited to go to communications class on Tuesday.

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